The light, blinding and blue, Ancestral nets reeking of brine and fish, Lapping waves bouncing against the bow, The chugging, stalling of the ancient Johnson that never gave up, Skin covered in slime, Shaking and cold, I had fallen underneath the churning waves over the side of the boat. Fascinated by the...
Carmen Maria Machado’s In the Dream House and Jeanette Winterson’s “The Poetics of Sex” both engage with the concept of the lesbian utopia. An important ideal in lesbian feminism, the lesbian utopia positions relationships between women as nonviolent and equal, promising an escape from the...
in the backseat of the company van, exposing his new habit to tonight’s gluten free pastries and vegan appetizers, just this one last time. The Rise the ornamental kitchen is sterile in preparation for the chef, The Cyclone, pelting rain behind synthetic euphoria and a white apron. paranoid, he examines the...
O thou art encompassing, goddess. The gentle dips and rounded curves, the sharp divots and peeking arches became known to my sorry, wandering hands. Pillars of supple, freckled skin kissed delicately by sunlight draped in white silk. Heavy cream and honeyed wine on parted, darkened, sanguine lips. You tasted mine...
I wake to the sound of unclipped claws scratching against my wooden door. A quiet moan comes from just outside my bedroom. I roll over and turn on my side light –yellow light falling across my skin. It makes me look sickly. I ease out...
[audio mp3="http://www.queensquilt.ca/wp-content/uploads/2024/01/put-aside.mp3"][/audio] Trickles of rain upon the canvas roof, Gentle rappings paired with the crackle of flames devouring poplar, The smell of rotting leaves covered in moisture creeps in from the outside. The thermos is set on a crumbling log Through the parted canvas, put aside for later. The reminder of...
[audio mp3="http://www.queensquilt.ca/wp-content/uploads/2024/01/sing-o-sweet-winged-creature.mp3"][/audio] sing! o sweet, winged creature of the endless sky beyond our darkened caverns. as we venture further into the oppressive earth; pickaxes and helms caked with decay, your sacred song sows our home back into the dirt: tales of the azure wild, of gods that trail along ocean floors, yielding their...
[audio mp3="http://www.queensquilt.ca/wp-content/uploads/2024/01/i-will-raise-my-Babygirl.mp3"][/audio] As a child, I would cling to her arm. Both my hands wound tightly around her muscle; skin that sunk and sagged from gravity fifteen years too early. My dad looks at photos of her from their twenties and tells me, “This is how...
[audio mp3="http://www.queensquilt.ca/wp-content/uploads/2024/01/redamancy.mp3"][/audio] They marry on a Sunday evening, with no witnesses but the birds in the trees and the stars in the sky. The valley is quiet. A soft summer breeze ruffles the leaves of the willow tree the pair has found shelter under, the brook murmurs...
[audio mp3="http://www.queensquilt.ca/wp-content/uploads/2024/01/year-of-the-rat.mp3"][/audio] They burrow too deep within the earth to know nothing, says the rat man. He wears on him the appearance of the witch Rasputin, and it is witchcraft indeed that he performs. The rats had for a time forced me to divert from my...